UPON returning home in the afternoon, I blithely stepped to collect the daily post.

Any light-heartedness was soon extinguished by a dreaded red and white card staring up at me from the porch floor and marked Royal Mail.

A parcel delivery had been missed.

Never mind I thought, perhaps things have changed at the parcel collection office in Milner Street.

I can always dream.

I have never really contemplated doing an injury to myself, but my 40-minute queueing experience in the Milner Street depot (and this having had to force the door open due to the hoards already in the premises) certainly set my thoughts in that direction.

Having moved along in the queue, I was rewarded (after 20 minutes) with the opportunity to study the gruesome pictures of dog-bitten postmen, held in a red folder screwed to the wall.

One member of staff, again, to see to a host of people.

Surely the Royal Mail can’t be in any doubts as to why it is losing custom to private enterprise and leaving parcel recipients in a state of abject disappointment.

Well done Royal Mail.